


sleep pendergrass, teddy

by sickgirl_mp3



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: F/M, dom-type stuff?, sex is cool ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-11-05 11:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11012715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sickgirl_mp3/pseuds/sickgirl_mp3





	1. Chapter 1

Aubrey and Beyoncé sit across from each other at a sushi restaurant in Houston’s museum district. They couldn’t agree on what to do that night, but they could agree on the fact that they loved sushi, so there they were.

 

They’re sitting at the back of the restaurant in a booth, the space they share is illuminated by one lamp that hangs from the ceiling. Aubrey quietly eats his food and Beyoncé takes a drink of water. Their feet touch under the table. 

 

Beyoncé looks around for a while. She taps her fingers on the table to hear the _click_ sound when her nails hit it and she looks at her reflection in the screen of her phone, which isn’t on because her and Aubrey have a strict no-phones rule when it comes to dates. She quickly finishes the food she ordered and resorts to tapping her chopsticks against various things. Finally, she looks at Aubrey, who’s just unceremoniously shoved a spicy tuna roll into his mouth. 

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

Aubrey nods quickly, mouth full of food. “Mm.”

 

“Remember that old camera I found a few years ago at Mom’s house?” Beyoncé asks.

 

“Mmffph.” Aubrey swallows. “Sorry. Yeah.”

 

Beyoncé watches as he takes a sip of his soda. “You think we could…” she trails off.

 

“Could…? What?”

 

“Film something with it?”

 

Aubrey scowls. 

 

“Bey, what’s up with you being so vague? Come on,” he says, putting his last roll into his mouth.

 

“A sex tape?” Beyoncé replies quietly.

 

Aubrey almost chokes on his food, letting out a muffled noise of surprise before chewing and swallowing as fast as he can.

 

“First off, thank you for choosing to discuss this over dinner, which we’re having in a public place. You know, where other people can hear us,” Aubrey says quietly, “Second, you really want to record and watch a sex tape on VHS?”

 

“It’s ten at night, Aubrey, nobody is here but us and,” --Beyoncé stops herself and leans over so that she can see who else is in the small restaurant-- ”a few old people. Think about it. There’s no way for it to get out to anyone- plus, it looks cool. Plus-”

 

“Okay, okay. So far, your reasoning, rationale, whatever you wanna call it for this is that it’s secure and that it ‘looks cool.’ Is that all?” Aubrey interrupts.

 

“Well, if you listened instead of interrupting me, I would’ve gotten to that part. Anyway, like I was saying; I wanted to try something new out, and I think it’d benefit me a lot if I got it on video. You know how it is, I’m obsessed with performance,” Beyoncé explains.

 

“Well, damn, what exactly is ‘something new?’” Aubrey asks. 

 

“I guess you could call it a change in attitude, wardrobe, and agenda.”

 

“Are you trying to tell me that you want to like, dress up as different things? ‘Cause I don’t know how I feel about that.”

 

“No!” Beyoncé says quickly. “ _God_ , no.”

 

“Okay, cool, ‘cause I was like-”

 

“Yeah, definitely not, I know what you’re saying. I was just thinking that I could spice things up a bit, y’know, make sure we’re not getting bored,” Beyoncé tells him.

 

Aubrey chuckles suggestively. “You know I could never get tired of-”

 

Beyoncé rolls her eyes. “Hold that thought. Let’s finish this conversation on the way home, alright?”

 

Aubrey stares at her, and she stares right back at him. The moment is broken by a waiter coming by with the check. Beyoncé pays for the both of them. 

 

They leave through an exit on the side of the building that faces an empty street and get in the car, starting the short drive home. 

 

As they head home, they’re silently listening to the radio. Irked by the lack of exchange, Aubrey turns the music down. 

 

“So.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Why won’t you tell me what you want to do?”

 

“I don’t know how you’ll take it.”

 

“Oh, word, so you really don’t know me?” Aubrey asks as he drives through their neighborhood.

 

Beyoncé’s brow furrows. “What?”

 

Aubrey chuckles. “Do you honestly think that I’m gonna be  _ that _ turned off by whatever it is you’re talking about? You know that’s not me, and you know it’s nowhere near that bad- whatever “it” is.”

 

“Alright, then. Can I ask you something?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do you like it when I get assertive, or is it too much? Be honest.”

 

“Bey, are you-”

 

“Answer the question.”

 

“I’m kind of into it, I can’t lie- but what’s that got to do with anything?”

 

Beyoncé stays silent, watching Aubrey park in front of their house and shut the engine off. This man is stupid, she thinks, if she were in his shoes she would've caught on in that moment.

 

Aubrey stares at her. “So,” he says, drawing out the syllable, “are you trying to do something, like, tonight?” 

 

Beyoncé nods and gets out of the car without a word. Aubrey is quick to follow suit and further interrogate her.

 

“What’s up with you being so quiet?” he asks as he follows her into the house. “Did I say something? What’s going on with you?”

 

“I need you to stay down here for a little bit,” Beyoncé says, turning toward Aubrey as she starts climbing the stairs, “Think you can do that for me?”

 

“Beyoncé-”

 

“Thanks.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Beyoncé has to struggle to hide her gleeful grin as she goes to the bedroom and looks through her closet. She finds the halter top and tights she’d bought a week ago, both made of black leather, and rushes to put them on. She admires herself in the mirror as she strikes a commanding pose.  After messing around for a while, she gets right back to business and looks for shoes to wear. Surpassing her flats, sneakers, and boots, she makes a beeline for her heels. She has them lined up neatly against the wall according to height and color.  She finds a nice pair of platform heels that she’d forgotten she even owned and smiles. They’re black like the rest of her outfit, and they’ve got straps that cross each other and stop at her ankle. She puts them on and suddenly, she’s six inches taller.

 

“This is…” Beyoncé trails off, trying to find a word to describe her feelings as she looks into the mirror again, “bad. Bad bitch.”

 

She throws her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head, sticking two decorative pins through it just because she can.

 

Walking out of the closet, she goes to the desk that sits against the wall next to her side of the bed.  She opens the biggest drawer and pulls out a VCR camera.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Beyoncé presses the “record” button, and after a few seconds of trying to get the lens cap off without breaking a nail, she puts her eye up to the viewfinder and points the camera at Aubrey. “Say hello.”

 

Aubrey tries to hold back at a laugh at the sight of her with a camera that’s about as old as she is in her hands. “Do people usually start sex tapes out with greetings?”

 

Beyoncé shrugs.

 

Aubrey snorts. “Alright,” he says. “Hi.”

 

He gets on the bed, laying on his side and smiling.

 

“Hi,” Beyoncé says with a laugh before turning around and putting the camera on the tripod. She goes behind it to make sure that the entire bed is in the shot and walks back in front of the camera to stand before Aubrey, her stance a confident one.

 

She watches as Aubrey bites his lip and tells her to come to him. It takes everything in her not to rush to sit right in his lap. 

 

“Baby, I was thinking that I could possibly…” she trails off. She knows it’s not the time to be nervous, but part of her can’t help but to wonder how Aubrey might react to her wanting to take control that night.

 

“Possibly what?” Aubrey asks.

 

“I was thinking that I could take control tonight. Test our limits, get a little bit outside of our comfort zone, you know?” 

 

“Like one of them weird dominatrix women, right?”

 

“Yeah. Unless you’re not cool with that, then we-”

 

Aubrey shushes her and sits up, legs hanging off the side of their bed. “Girl, it’s fine. I don’t mind that, it’d be nice to try it anyway. C’mere.”

 

Gears turn in Beyoncé’s head and things start to fall into place. She’s ready to see how well she can play this out. 

 

She gives a firm shake of her head. “No.”

 

Aubrey smirks, his tone defiant. “No?”

 

“You heard me. I told you no,” Beyoncé says as she steps over to Aubrey, standing in the space between his open legs. “Here’s how things are going tonight. I tell you something, you do it, and if you’re consistent- you’re smart enough to assume what could happen if you act right.” 

 

She tilts his chin up with a finger to make him look her in the eye. Aubrey puts his hands on her hips and she smacks them away. 

 

“Tonight, I’m sharing myself with you like every other night, but this time I control how I do that. Don’t touch anything if I don’t tell you to,” Beyoncé says, her voice low, firm, yet polite and comforting. She straddles him and kisses his neck sweetly.

 

“You’re really feeling this, huh?” Aubrey asks, hands finding their way to her hips again. 

 

“I don’t know why you thought I wasn’t ‘bout it, baby,” Beyoncé says, slapping Aubrey’s hands off of her again. “No touching.”

 

Aubrey’s face is buried into her neck. 

 

“I don’t think I like this much, I’ve changed my mind,” Aubrey whines, groaning.

 

Beyoncé holds back a giggle, keeping a stern, yet gentle, expression. She tilts Aubrey’s head up, looking him in the eye. “I didn’t ask you if you didn’t like it. Wanna do something you might like?”

 

Aubrey nods.  Beyoncé slips her pants down, and when she realizes she has to take her shoes off to get them all the way off of her legs, she rolls her eyes.

 

“Bye,” she says as she fusses with her shoes and pants.

 

After a minute of her taking her shoes and pants off, she puts her shoes back on.

 

“You’ll have no problem eating me out, then,” Beyoncé says, laying at the edge of their bed and spreading her legs. 

 

Aubrey moves toward her and her hand meets soft curls right as he gets entirely too close to where she wants him.

 

“You gotta ask first.”

 

“Why the fu-”

 

“Play nice.”

 

“Beyoncé, please,” Aubrey says, slightly frustrated and sighing.

 

“What are you asking for?” Beyoncé asks, gently pulling at his hair so he'll look up at her.

 

“Let me eat you out, Bey,” Aubrey gripes.

 

“”Let me eat you out” what?”

 

“Let me eat you out, please.”

 

“Oh, thanks for asking. No.”

 

“BEYONCÉ,” Aubrey yells.

 

Beyoncé tsks disapprovingly, shaking her head.

 

“That doesn't sound very nice.” 

 

Aubrey puts his face into the comforter and moans. 

 

“God, what did I get into?” he says into the mattress.

 

“Lay down,” Beyoncé says, her voice soft yet sharp.

 

Aubrey does what she tells him to and she hurries to take her underwear off. She straddles him, her hands resting on his chest. She grabs the soft fabric, feels it between her fingers; she knows he sheets she's going to pull at later feel the same in her hands. She pulls Aubrey up slightly by his shirt.

 

“Don't pull at it like that. It's Raf-”

 

Beyoncé shushes him, the sound coming from her mouth drawn out and soft. She moves up so she can sit on his face.

 

“If you're gonna run your mouth so much, do it in a useful manner or it's no help to anyone,” Beyoncé says. 

 

Aubrey groans, annoyed, and vibrations coming from him make her breathe out a little shakily. Aubrey's never shy, and he makes it known when he begins to lick at her sloppily. 

 

“See? Who needs Raf Simmons when you have Beyoncé Giselle?” Beyoncé asks, one hand holding the headboard while she scratches at Aubrey's scalp gently with the other.

 

He sucks and licks at her clit eagerly and she starts to ride his face gently, seeing if she can fix up a rhythm between her and his mouth. He catches on in no time and she looks down at him.

 

“Good,” she praises, her voice bordering on a whisper as she sighs. 

 

Aubrey's eyes are shut, pretty eyelashes on display. Beyoncé always notices them, but she thinks she’s just been made able to appreciate them more in this moment. From what she can see of his face, he’s perfect. From the nose up, he is absolutely gorgeous. She almost giggles.

 

“Baby, look at me.”

 

His eyes flutter open, but his eyelids stay heavy as their eyes meet. He breathes in through his nose harshly and moans; her thighs tighten around his head at the feeling it gives her, letting out a whimper that dissipates into a laugh.

 

“Don't try and embarrass me by making me come quick,” she jokes.

 

Aubrey rolls his eyes and presses his tongue against her more insistently, making her whine and tense up for a moment. She decides she has to redeem herself when it comes to that moment of (in her opinion) weakness, so she decides to speak up.

 

“It's like your face is nothing but a pretty seat, you feel me? It's a good one, too, you’re so good,” Beyoncé tells Aubrey, “You love this, huh?”

 

She backs away from his face, breathing a little harder than normal. She bites her lip, smiling as she looks at how his wet mouth glints in the dim light from the nightstand.

 

“You like this pussy?” she coos, almost patronizingly. “You like it when I make you get quiet by sitting it right on your face and telling you to eat it so you can do something actually productive instead of yapping at me about what you're wearing?”

 

Aubrey nods, looking surprised somewhat. 

 

“What’d you say?” Beyoncé asks, expecting a verbal answer.

 

“I love it,” Aubrey says, reaching down to adjust his jeans.

 

“Good,” Beyoncé says, giddy at how easy this is for her and hiding it. “And stop touching yourself.”

 

She sits back on his face as he groans at her, and she's made aware of the short, sharp stubble on his face grazing against the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs. His tongue flicks at her feverishly and hurriedly, and her whines get more audible; she doesn't bother trying to lessen the noise anymore. She clamps her thighs around his head as she feels herself get so close to coming that she can barely handle it, and when she says his name it's accidentally stuttered and drawn out, escalating into a short shriek. 

 

“You-you’re,” Beyoncé stutters again accidentally, “gonna make me come.” 

 

She’s trying to keep a nice tone that’s just the right amount of demeaning but struggling because of her current situation. 

 

“You’re so good with that mouth, Aubrey-”

 

She cuts her own self off with a yell that startles even her as she comes suddenly, hips bucking against his face.  Aubrey stops what he's doing, but when Beyoncé stills, trying to catch her breath, he presses his tongue flat against her and she lets out a small gasp before quickly getting off of him. She kneels beside him, leaning down to press her lips to his, tasting herself and slapping his arm when he goes to rest his hand on her ass. He tries to bite at her lip but she makes a noise of refusal because she wants to reiterate her only rule.

 

“Don't touch unless I tell you to.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

"New rule.”

“Aw, fuck, what now?”

“Hey, now,” Beyoncé says, shushing him.

Her thumb drags down gently against Aubrey’s bottom lip, and she slips it into his mouth so he can suck her come off of it.

“Be nice. But also, this is a great example for rule two.”

Aubrey’s eyebrows lift in interest.

“Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to,” Beyoncé proudly says.

Aubrey begins the first syllable of a word but stops himself, rolling his eyes. Beyoncé grins happily.

“Good. And a “yes ma’am” would be nice.”

“Yes ma’am,” Aubrey says.

“Kindness shouldn't go unrewarded,” Beyoncé coos sweetly, her hand in his hair, pulling at curls gently just to watch them spring back to their original coil. “What do you want?”

Aubrey grabs her wrist, his grip on it somewhat tight. “I want you to stop fucking around,” he says, slipping his pants down with his free hand and lifting his hips to push them down further.

Beyoncé's eyes slowly flicker from her wrist to his eyes, which she's reminded are the deepest, richest shade of brown imaginable, and she's trying to feign shock, but when he looks at her the way he is- like she's something past desirable, something very much past needed- it's hard for her to not want to make every single wish of his come true.

“Aubrey,” she says, her voice quiet but still washed over with a hint of determination, the last of all she has, “ask for something else.”

“I’m not gonna do that. It was fun while it lasted, but don't you think the time to play around is over, Bey?” Aubrey asks, clearly affected by the trying situation of being so close yet so far from what he needs.

Beyoncé's hands and eyes trail down his body slowly.

“Get your hands off of me.”

Beyoncé pauses, scowling in confusion. “What?”

“Don't touch. It's a rule, right?” Aubrey asks.

Beyoncé’s a dumbass for not seeing it coming. She could laugh- almost.

“...It is,” she says slowly.

“I just, y’know, I just think I should get a chance to- you know,” Aubrey says, somewhat goofily, making her laugh, “level the playing field a little.”

“I hate your ass,” Beyoncé says.

“Get off me, then.”

“Aubrey-”

“Get off,” he says. “I’m tired.”

“Tired-” Beyoncé snorts, disbelieving. Tired? “Tired?”

“Yeah, I’m sleepy,” he says, pushing her off of him before slipping his clothes off and putting sweatpants on. He gets back in bed, his back turned to her, and he pulls the covers over himself. “And turn that camera off.”

 

* * *

 

An hour. Beyoncé laid in bed, staring at the ceiling for an hour, in the silk nightgown she'd planned on wearing after she and Aubrey’d gotten done using each other. She'd wake up and he’d stir, rasp out a gruff “good morning,” his hand would slip down her thigh and she'd halfheartedly tell him that it's too early. He'd ask if she were sure, lips against her ear, and she'd try to keep the game up by objecting but fuck, his hand’s slipping under her clothes and his touch is warm and undeniable and right and the best thing to be first introduced to in the morning- but she's staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night. Aubrey sleeps well- like a baby, even- and it drives Beyoncé mad. She let him fuck her over just that easily. How weak of her to do so. Aubrey turns over in his sleep and reaches around her, attempting to pull her to him; she doesn't budge. He tries again and she still doesn’t move; however, she does turn to look at him somewhat upsetly. He tries to pull her closer one more time and he scowls, moaning softly and stretching- she can tell be the way he tenses up- and opening one eye.

“How long have you been awake?” Aubrey asks, shifting closer to her and tightening his arm around her waist.

“Long enough,” Beyoncé says, her voice dull but hinting at slight irritation.

“What’s wrong?”

Beyoncé says “nothing,” but that obviously translates to “you won’t fuck me, that’s what’s wrong-” but she wants Aubrey to find that out for himself.

“Can't fix it if you don't tell me,” he says, idly kissing her cheek. Beyoncé could care less.

“I said “nothing,” so there's nothing to fix, Aubrey.”

“Tell me or I’m gonna lay on you until you wheeze the problem out,” Aubrey playfully threatens.

Beyoncé makes a great discovery, but her face doesn't show it; she stays stoic. She is supposed to be upset, after all. “I’m fine- Aubrey,” she groans as he rolls over on top of her.

“What's the matter?” he asks.

His body’s warm and heavy, voice wrapped up in sleep, and when Beyoncé shifts her hips against his gently, she doesn't feel bad. If he didn't want her to ask for anything now, he should've put out earlier. She doesn't make the rules. He lets out a short laugh and she whines.

“Aubrey,” she complains desperately.

Aubrey shushes her softly, rolling off of her to sit up in bed. “Come here,” he says, patting the space he makes in between his legs.

Beyoncé will complain about everything for the rest of her life. She obliges, sitting in between his legs and laying on his chest. She feels his fingertips on her thighs, and she wants to inch forward so that they're closer to where she wants him, but she doesn't want to push it.

“What do you want?” Aubrey asks. Beyoncé wants to scream.

“Don't try it,” she says quietly, head on his shoulder. He laughs, smoothly easing her gown up and gently spreading her legs so he can rub her clit. The quick circular motions he makes with his fingers cause her to buck her hips up against them and whine. His fingers start to slip as she gets wetter and when they do, she moans frustratedly. He brings his fingers to her mouth and she sucks on them, tasting herself and moaning softly around his fingers when his other hand pushes her nightgown back up so he can gently press a finger into her then add another one afterward.

Beyoncé’s putty in Aubrey’s hands and she doesn't care anymore.

She pushes against his fingers and his hand tangles in her hair to gently pull her head back so he can kiss her. “I want more,” she tells him.

She can feel how hard he is as he's pressed against her back. His voice rumbles from his throat, low and a molasses-like, sticky kind of sweet. “You gonna stop making me wait?”

Beyoncé nods emphatically and means it.

“You gonna stop talking shit?”

Beyoncé shakes her head.

“Can't get everything you want, I guess,” Aubrey says, bringing his fingers up to her mouth for her to suck off again. She turns around, straddling him, and she's licking his fingers clean while she pulls his pants down. When she slowly eases herself onto him her eyes flutter shut. “Look at me.”

She opens her eyes and Aubrey’s are heavy because he's tired, but the lust in them is unmistakable and that's what matters to Beyoncé most. She rides him with a steady, slow rhythm, taking in his soft moans and his tight grip on her hips. The slow burn of him stretching her out is something she readily welcomes as well as the lack of words they share.

The only thing she hears from Aubrey aside from his quiet grunts and moans is a “baby,” said in such a hushed tone that she would've sworn he just mouthed it if she hadn't felt his breath on her skin. She starts riding him a little harder, faster, but her moment’s stolen when he turns the both of them over. He hovers over her and fucks her, slow and so deep that it has her biting her lip hard and gripping the sheets. She rolls her hips against his, noisy whines coming from her as she does so, but she stops when Aubrey sits up to hoist her legs over his shoulders and rub at her clit. He's a little lazier than before, a little more rough, and she knows he’s close. She tries to hold out on coming as long as possible, but the fact that she'd already waited all that time for him to touch her did nothing but make the buildup worse, and when she comes tries to move away from Aubrey, who won't stop fucking her. To his credit, however, he did slow up; she loves him for that.

He comes quietly, nothing more than breathy, low moans coming from him, and when he falls in bed next to Beyoncé she feels their breath sync up.

She's learning yet again that not everything can go her way, and she's fine with it if it's always like this.


End file.
